


Catch Me (All Records Indicate)

by Engineerd



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Batman, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:18:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineerd/pseuds/Engineerd
Summary: Damian had studied each of his father’s prior proteges briefly before he’d left the League of Assassins. Somehow, Grayson in person is nothing like Grayson on paper.OR“Are you sure you can catch me?” Grayson asked.Damian could hear his heart beating. He wasn’t sure. “Yes,” he answered anyways.The evolution of the nickname "Lil' D"





	1. University

**Author's Note:**

> This work is primarily pre-New52, but has some AU elements, like the fact that Jason is not in jail. Probably set in the same universe as my other Batman fics, but it's not really related.

Grayson had never graduated from college. All records indicate that he had completed one semester of business classes at Hudson University several years ago with a GPA of 2.88 and then dropped out entirely, never to return.  

“Where were you today?” Damian demanded as soon as his guardian walked through the door of the penthouse. 

Grayson shrugged off his coat. “I spent the day at the University of Gotham. Didn’t you ask Alfred?”

“He told me that too, but I assumed he must have been mistaken.  You’re too old for school.”

“Hey,” Grayson said. “I’m not that old. I could be in college.” 

Damian crossed his arms. “Is this some sort of scheme to keep complacent with that embarrassment of an elementary school?” Grayson had recently forced Damian to start attending the 5th grade, claiming it would be better for their secret identities if Damian was in the same grade as his fellow 10-year-olds. 

“Not everything’s about you, Damian,” Grayson sighed, and started walking towards the kitchen. “There was a donor’s luncheon today. I was there representing the family.”

Damian trailed after him. Even though they were using that criminal shapeshifter to keep up the appearance of Bruce Wayne, Grayson didn’t hide the fact that he wanted to avoid using it as much as possible. As such, Grayson did a lot of 'representing the family' these days. 

“It’s 5:30,” Damian pointed out, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen as Grayson predictably went for the cereal cabinet. “That’s awfully long for a luncheon.” 

“I went to a lecture afterwards,” Grayson admitted, pulling down a box of cornflakes. 

“A lecture?” Damian repeated quizzically. “Your file said you never liked school.” 

Grayson looked up at him sharply, eyes searching Damian’s face, before he seemed to shake himself out of it and went back to pouring his cereal. “I liked school fine, I just had other priorities. And before you say anything, I was an adult before I stopped going to college.” He gestured with the cereal box. “Want some?”

Damian shook his head, coming forward to join Grayson at the breakfast island and snagging an orange from the fruit bowl Pennyworth kept stocked in middle. “So, what lecture did you go to that kept you so late? Finance?” 

“Nah,” Grayson shook his head. “Biomedical engineering.”

Damian frowned. “What were you doing in engineering? We don’t have anything to do with engineering. The family has the Wayne School of Business, you moron.”

“Hey,” Grayson chided lightly. “If you want to get technical, the whole place used to be the Wayne Institute of Higher Learning. It was founded by the Wayne family way back in the 1600s, and was only changed in 1890 when-” 

“Don’t change the subject,” Damian interrupted, trying to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach he always got when Grayson started spouting off Wayne family history like it was his own. “What was your lecture about?” 

Grayson smiled. “Chronobiology,” he said. “The lecturer seemed more like a biologist than an engineer.”

“What’s that?”

“How your body changes with time,” Grayson answered. “Specifically, circadian rhythms, like how your baseline temperature and heart rate have a 24-hour rhythm. Bruce has been looking for a way to control melatonin for years because of our night shifts, but it’s really hard to get right because of the side effects. I swear at one point when the insomnia was really getting to him he had a plan to redesign his SCN - I forget what that stands for, but it’s the part of the brain that transduces light information to your internal clock - and we had to get Cyborg to talk him down.”

Damian took a moment to digest the information. Well, not quite the information, he knew he wasn’t a neuroscientist, but the way Grayson kept casually mentioning Father in present tense, like he wasn’t dead, like everything would just be normal and there was nothing wrong with sprinkling little anecdotes into the conversation about a man Damian would never truly know. “Is the shift work bad for us?”

Grayson snorted. “It supposedly increased long-term risk of heart disease and obesity, but I don’t think you have to worry about that, Little D?”

Damian frowned. “What did you just call me?”

“Do you like it?” Grayson asked. “I just thought of it today. You know, cuz we’re the Dick and Damian duo, our names both start with the same letter, so that’d make me-”

“No,” Damian said, scowled. “No, absolutely not. That’s not even your real name,  _ Richard _ .” 

“Ha!” Grayson said, pointing a finger at Damian. “I got a first name out of you!”

Damian threw his orange at Grayson’s face. It bounced off his cheek and into his bowl of cereal. “The sacrifice was necessary to stop the atrocious nickname,” Damian said stoically, and then quickly changed the subject. “When’s dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Alfred’s out checking out equipment for the bunker,” Grayson said. “It’s just you and me tonight, kiddo.” 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed, and hopped off his stool. “I’m going to go read. Call me when it’s time for patrol.”

“You just said you were hungry,” Grayson called after him. “Stay! I’ll make whatever!”

“Not interested,” Damian answered. “I have pop-tarts in my room.”

“Pop-tarts are not dinner!” Grayson said. “Come on, stay! Have you ever had mac and cheese?”

“You know cheese sauce isn’t Italian,” Damian pointed out. 

“I didn’t say we were having Italian, I said we were having mac’n’cheese,” Grayson said. “Oh, and let’s throw peas in there, too. You need your vegetables.”

“I took my vitamin supplements this morning!”

“I’ll put some water on,” Grayson said, ignoring his protests. “Can you check and see if we have any peas in the fridge or the freezer?”

“This is ridiculous,” Damian muttered under his breath, but he went over to check anyways. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Damian had studied each of his father’s prior proteges briefly before he’d left the League of Assassins. All records indicated that Grayson was used his father’s messenger, a contingency plan for communication.  _ Fear Batman, Trust Nightwing.  _ Both of their reputations were well-known - while everyone respected Batman as a warrior, people liked Nightwing as a friend. 

He is not a threat, Mother had told him, but do not underestimate him, either. He is well-liked. 

Damian hadn’t understood. He still didn’t understand. If Grayson was so well-liked, how had he managed to alienate everyone else in his so-called family so spectacularly?

“Have you heard from Cass recently?” he overheard Grayson ask on the phone one day. They were in the bunker, and they were supposed to be meeting for a training session. Damian ducked around the corner back towards the locker room so Grayson wouldn’t see him. 

The person on the other end of the line answered indistinctly. “Oh, good,” Grayson answered. “I’m glad she’s okay.” 

Another pause. “Well, there’s...I actually haven’t talked to Tim in a while, either.” 

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, okay?”

“You don’t think I know that? What am I supposed to do, Babs?” Oh, he was talking to Oracle, then. His file indicated a slightly strained relationship ever since the two of them had broken off their engagement a year prior, shortly before Damian had arrived in Gotham. 

“I tried,” Grayson continued, sounding suddenly emotional. “You don’t think I tried?  I offered him - right after I decided Damian has to be Robin, I told Tim he could have Nightwing, and then he told me to fuck off.” Damian blinked in surprise. He hadn’t known that.

Wasn’t Drake supposed to be the smart one?

“Well, Bruce  _ is  _ dead, and no amount of wishing is going to change it back.”

“Look, Tim got the business, so he has to come back to Gotham every once in while to do company stuff. I’ll try again with him next time, okay?”

“Do you know something I don’t? Did Stephanie tell you something?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Batgirl’s always been more of an independent operation. Plus, she has you, doesn’t she? Is something going on, Barbara?”

“Well, I’ve kind of had my hands full, if you hadn’t noticed!”

“You don’t know what it’s like! Tim is  _ gone,  _ so all the Wayne stuff and everything with Damian is on me, not to mention - Oh, don’t give me that, you think being Batman is easy now? No, you think I had a choice? Should I have let Jason continue shooting people in his name?” 

A longer pause. “I’m not touching Crime Alley with a ten-foot pole,” Grayson snapped. 

“You know better than anyone how well Jason and I have always gotten along. Never. He’s dangerous, and if Bruce couldn’t do it, what makes you think I’d have a snowball’s chance in hell?”

“If Jason or Tim or Steph or Cass for that matter want to talk, they know where to find me.” 

“I have Alfred. And Damian.” 

Pause. “I trust Damian,” Grayson declared loudly, startling Damian enough to peek around the corner to see if Grayson had discovered him. No, he was facing the other direction. He hadn’t. 

“Yeah, well Damian is better at kicking ass now than you ever were,” Grayson snapped, and then hung up the phone suddenly. He stared down at the little screen. “I’m going to pay for that later. Eight-thirty. Where...DAMIAN?” 

Damian whipped back out of sight around the corner, opened the locker room door loudly and made a production of straightening the elastic waistband of his training shorts as he marched back into the training area. “Here,” he called out, not making eye contact with Grayson as he stopped in front of him. 

“We’re doing gymnastics today,” Grayson said briskly. 

Damian’s head jerked up. “Gymnastics? But you said judo earlier-”

_ “Gymnastics,”  _ Grayson repeated, loosely clapping his hands together twice. “Parallel bars. Let’s go.”      

Damian took a deep breath. “Do you want to do the trapeze instead?”

Grayson looked over at him sharply, frowning. 

“What?” Damian asked uncomfortable. 

“Are you sure you can catch me?” Grayson asked. 

Damian could hear his heart beating. He wasn’t sure. “Yes,” he answered anyways. 

“Okay, then,” Grayson answered. “We can try the trapeze.”

 

* * *

 

Grayson was tense all throughout their brutal workout that night, and his bad mood remained all throughout patrol. Not that this was entirely unusual - Grayson was stressed often enough, but the cause of the tenseness was usually a physical injury, or an unsolved case, or often Damian himself. Not... Grayson’s supposed family. 

Naturally, Damian skipped school the next day. 

Drake’s distance seemed to be bothering Grayson the most, and as much as Damian would revel in a confrontation with Red Robin, his location was unknown and would likely take days to substantiate. Furthermore, the best lead on Red Robin was usually the Teen Titans, but Damian would rather cut off his foot than contact them voluntarily. He had never met Cain, Gordon would likely still be insulted from Grayson’s surprisingly venomous defense of Damian yesterday, and Todd was a madman. 

This left Brown. 

Brown was the same age as Drake. They had both graduated high school early, and while Drake had promptly disappeared off the face of society, Brown had enrolled in Gotham University. It was Friday, and her only class was from 9-10. It was held a large lecture in a large hall, and that she was sitting alone near the back made it very easy for Damian to sneak and and sit down next to year. 

Brown was on her phone, not paying attention to lecture, and she barely glanced at Damian when he sat down. 

“Brown,” he prompted. 

She finished typing something, and then finally put her phone away in her pocket. “Damian,” she whispered back. “What are you doing here? I have class!” 

“You’re not focusing on the lecture,” Damian countered. 

“I had a long night last night,” Brown argued back. “I can learn by osmosis.” She tugged on the collar of Damian’s stupid school uniform and motioned for him to follow her out of the lecture hall, which he did. “What?”

“Osmosis is not a real learning technique.”

“It’s Marketing 101,” Brown sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s not exactly rocket science. Damian, what are you doing here?”

“Perhaps you should be studying rocket science or something else more challenging,” Damian answered back. “It is not befitting of someone who wears my father’s crest to hold themselves to the highest of standards.”  

“You’re avoiding the question,” Brown said.

Damian pursed his lips. “You should work a case with us,” he said finally. 

“Us?” Brown repeated, raising her eyebrows. 

“Grayson and I,” Damian clarified.  

“You want me to work a case with you,” she repeated. 

Damian folded his arms over his chest. “Yes, that’s what I said, Brown. What don’t you understand? Are you deaf as well as dumb?”

“There we go,” Brown said easily, pointing her finger at Damian. “See, despite what you said, I’m getting the impression that you don’t want to work with me.”

“We’ve worked together effectively before,” Damian said. 

“You complained anyway.”

“Well, of course I don’t  _ want  _ to work with you, Brown,” he huffed impatiently. “But Grayson does, so.”

She actually looked surprised. “Dick said that?”

“He didn’t admit to that as such,” Damian said. “But he misses you, and I think working with someone else as as well as myself would bring him great comfort.”  

 “One problem with your theory, Rob,” Brown pointed out. “Dick and I never really worked together, and we were never that close. I don't know if there's much I can do for him.”

“Your records indicate you’ve been fighting crime for many years,” Damian pointed out. “And don’t call me a kid.”

“I worked a lot with Tim,” Brown continued. “With your old man, a little. Mostly on my own.” 

“So you don’t want to work with us?” Damian surmised. He felt heat rising to his cheeks. “Fine. You could have just said so.”

“Oh, Dami,” Brown said, sounding suddenly far too sympathetic. “Is there a specific case you need help on?”

“You’re not allowed to call me that,” Damian snapped. “And for the record, it’s the case of how to stop Grayson from combusting from self-inflicted loneliness, because everyone in this hemisphere is an  _ idiot.” _

“Hey,” Brown objected. 

“It’s  _ true,”  _ Damian said. “Everyone is supposed to  _ like  _ Grayson, it makes no sense for him to suddenly be like this now. And a mopey Batman is a bad Batman, even you know that.”

“You know, Damian,” Brown said. She was smiling. “I think this is the most Robin-like thing you’ve ever done. Just tell me the time and place, I’ll be there.”

Damian blinked. “Thank you,” he said slowly. “I think.”

“Full disclosure,” she said. “I texted Dick that you were here as soon as I saw you so he wouldn’t freak out. He’ll probably be here in twenty minutes, depending on traffic.”

“Grayson doesn’t ‘freak out’,” Damian argued. “He knows I’m fully capable of taking care of myself.”

“He’s your legal guardian, of course he freaks out,” Brown said. “You know the school calls him if you’re not there?”

“School,” Damian scoffed. “Very well, Brown, I will forgive this betrayal, on the condition that you do not inform Grayson about the nature of this conversation.”

“Sure,” she answered easily. “But then why would you be here?”

“Just tell him I wanted to go to a lecture at university,” Damian answered. “He’ll understand. It’s payback.”

Brown stared at him. “Payback?”

“Yes.”

“He’s got you rebelling by going to college classes,” she repeated, seemingly to herself, and she opened the door back to the lecture hall. “Is there anything he’s not good at?”

“Multitudes of things, don’t worry,” Damian said, retaking his original seat next to Brown’s things. 

“Shush,” she said, settling in beside him and taking out a notebook. 

“As long as you actually pay attention this time,” he whispered back. Brown scowled and stuck out her tongue. 

Grayson was exasperated when he arrived to pick Damian up, and grounded him from patrol that night because “when I say you have to go to school, Damian, that means your assigned school and classroom, not any old school you want.” 

However, Brown joined them for patrol the night after that, and even if Grayson didn’t seem happy, exactly, he was back to normal.  


	3. Formal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd looked over to Damian instead. “Oy, look at the knock-off demon. Seven months in and finally learning how to quip.”

When Damian had briefly studied Grayson’s records before he first came to Gotham, he’d categorized his eldest predecessor as the least likely to challenge him for his father’s inheritance in Gotham. Grayson had publicly renounced Bruce Wayne - perhaps not in words, but in actions, at least. He’d moved away from Gotham as early has he could, had taken on a new superhero identity that had nothing to do with bats, and refused his father’s money and status by working as a lowly police officer. 

Grayson didn’t want to be the Batman or a Wayne, the records said, over and over and over and over. 

And yet, here Grayson was in Gotham as both. 

“I don’t think I should have to go,” Damian said, leaning against the doorway of Grayson’s bathroom as Grayson liberally applied product to his hair. 

“If I have to go, you have to go,” Grayson said, trying to slick his hair back with mediocre success. “And put your shoes on! Some nice shoes, not the ones you scuffed up a few weeks ago at the company thing.” 

Damian scowled. “You’re the one who insisted I go to ‘Take your child to work day.’ I’m not your child, and you don’t even work at the company.” 

“Whoa,” Grayson said, now attempting to tame his hair with a comb. “I’m the Vice President of Acquisition at Wayne Entertainment.” 

“Once a month you buy a circus,” Damian retorted. “That’s not a job, or a sound business investment.” 

“Your dad loved the circus,” Grayson said. “That’s where he found me.”

“You were extraordinary,” Damian argued. 

Grayson’s combing hand stilled, and his eyes flashed to Damian’s in the mirror. “Thanks, Little D.”

Damian scowled more. “Tt. Don’t call me that. It wasn’t a compliment.” 

“Then go get your shoes on,” Grayson answered, not missing a beat. 

“It’s not fair,” Damian said. “Why do I have to stand around in a full tuxedo while you’re only half-dressed and fiddling with your hair?”

Grayson was only wearing his suit pants, socks, and an undershirt - the rest of his ensemble was laid out on his bed in the adjacent room. “If you go get your shoes on now then you can pick out which bowtie I wear.”

“Black,” Damian answered instantly. 

“I’ve got a lime green one that squirts water,” Grayson said threateningly. 

“You’re wouldn’t dare.”

Grayson quirked an eyebrow at Damian in the mirror. 

“Fine!” Damian yelled, and started stomping away as best he could without shoes. “If only to stop you from EMBARRASSING the whole family.”

“I’m a cool brother!” Dick shouted back from the bathroom. “I’m the coolest brother you have!”

Damian pulled his shoes out from the shelves where Pennyworth carefully stored them. “Todd is cooler than you, Grayson! He has a leather jacket!”

“Jason!” Grayson shouted back, outraged. “Last time he saw you, he shot at you!”

“That makes him even cooler!” Damian yelled.  “I respect a man who doesn’t toy with his enemies. Anyways, he missed!”

“This time!” 

“I think he’s getting used to me,” Damian mused, slipping on his dress shoes. “He hasn’t hit me in months.”

Grayson finally ambled out of his bedroom, shirt and jacket buttoned neatly except for the loose untied black bowtie hanging around his neck.  “Fine.I’m wearing the black. You happy now?”

“I’d be happier if I didn’t have to go to this stupid silent auction,” Damian said. 

“Misery loves company,” Grayson said. “Come on, let’s go down to the car. Alfred’s meeting us there.”

 

* * *

 

‘Bruce Wayne’ was hosting a silent auction at Wayne Manor that evening. ‘Bruce Wayne’ of course, was actually the criminal shapeshifter known as Hush that Grayson was strong-arming into making these performances. It was his first appearance in about six weeks, just often enough that the public wouldn’t get suspicious. 

Grayson had solicited Catwoman’s help (eugh) for the main guard duties, so she was officially Bruce’s date for the evening, clinging to his arm the whole night. Brown was also in attendance. 

“Hey guys,” she greeted them as they entered the ballroom from the secret back entrance. 

“Hey, Steph,” Dick said casually.

“I didn’t know you were coming, Brown,” Damian remarked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m Tim’s date,” she said quickly, shaking the skirt of her purple dress with her hands. 

Damian made a retching noise. “Even worse, Drake. Is he here?” Grayson didn’t verbally echo the question, but Damian noticed his gaze dart over in interest. 

“Nah,” Brown answered. Grayson’s face fell almost imperceptibly. “I am the sole representative of the Drake family this evening.”

“Despite his financial assets, even you deserve better than Drake,” Damian scoffed. 

Brown placed one hand over her chest. “Aw, Dami,” she crooned, reaching over to pinch Damian’s cheek with her other hand. “I’m your favorite!”

Damian swatted her hand away and scowled. “Wrong.” 

“Don’t bother trying, Steph,” Grayson commented, giving off an air of amusement. “He shot me down earlier, too. Jason’s his favorite.”

_ “Jason?”  _ Brown echoed. “Jason, who threw me off a roof last time I set foot in crime alley, that Jason? Seven-severed-heads-in-a-duffel-bag Jason?”

“What a magnificent intimidation tactic,” Damian said wistfully. “I only wish I had been here for it.” Grayson smacked hard on the shoulder. “Ow! What!”

“Killing is wrong,” Grayson said. 

“And it was gross,” Brown added. 

Damian rolled his eyes “Whatever.” 

Grayson let out a huge sigh. “Killing is wrong,” he repeated wearily.  “We’ve been over this, kiddo.”

“Is that Richard Grayson-Wayne?” a high-pitched voice asked, interrupting their conversation. Damian looked over to see a middle-aged brunette woman he didn’t know storming over. 

“That’s my cue,” Brown whispered, sliding away from them. “Oh! I think I see Alfred.”

Grayson merely looked resigned. “Oh! Mrs. Heiden, how great to see you here. I’m glad you could make it tonight,” he said, with only mild conviction in Damian’s opinion.

The woman waggled her left hand in Grayson’s face. “Ms. Heiden, now.”

“My sympathies,” Damian drawled loudly, stepping in front of Grayson to force the attention onto himself.  “It will be exponentially more difficult to find yourself another lover now that you are past childbearing age.” He extended his hand. “Damian Wayne.” 

A waiter that had followed them over here with a tray of champagne burst out into gafaws. The woman in front of him frowned. “Oh, hello dear,” she said flatly. “I’ve heard about Brucie’s latest project.” 

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Father’s latest son and heir, you mean.” Grayson normally clapped Damian on the shoulder by now and started steering the conversation, but as he wasn’t doing any of that, Damian must be doing something right. He didn’t both glancing back towards his brother for confirmation as he continued, “Do you have any children yourself, Madam?”

She was watching something behind Damian.  _ Rude. " _ Just a daughter,” she answered absently. “But she’s grown now, around your Ricky’s age.” 

_ Ricky?  _ Damian glanced back over his shoulder to see Grayson’s reaction to that, but Grayson was gone. Damn. “Ah yes,” Damian told her, looking around to see where all the people he knew went. “Dear brother Ricky. Did you see where he ran off too?”

“He just dragged that rude waiter away,” she answered, gesturing towards the hallway that led to the kitchen. 

“How dare he leave me behind,” Damian remarked, ignoring the woman as he started trotting off in the direction she referred to. “He knows how much I enjoy it when he yells at people.” He slid out the servants’ door of the ballroom. There was noise coming from the kitchen at the end of the corridor, but other than that the hall was empty. “Grayson?” Damian called tentatively. “Pennyworth?”

Nothing. This wasn’t good - there was no limit on trouble Grayson could get himself into even in the few minutes they’d been separated, and Damian had moved out almost all of his weapons with him when they’d moved from the manor to the bunker. He had one sword stashed in the old bedroom he’d been inhabiting for the few months before Father had passed - that would have to do. 

Damian rushed up the stairs to the part of the manor where the main living quarters were kept, but paused right at the top when he saw the light on in the study. No time for the sword, unfortunately - Damian took out two plastic throwing stars hidden in the soles of his shoes and burst in. 

Grayson was having a drink with the waiter. Upon closer inspection, the waiter appeared to be Todd. Taking no chances, Damian immediately threw his first star at the glass tumblr in Grayson’s hand, knocking it onto the floor where it shattered, liquid inside splashing everywhere. 

“Damian!” Grayson shouted. 

Damian transferred his other throwing star to his dominant hand, glaring at his other brother. “Todd may be trying to poison you.”

Todd raised his middle finger off his own glass and made a sort of saluting gesture at Damian. “Demon Brat! Glad you could make it.”

“Jason’s not going to poison me,” Grayson said, exasperated. “If Jason was here to hurt me, he would have straight-up punched me in the face. Instead, he was kind enough to sneak in. He has honor.”

“I heard I’m your favorite,” Todd continued, smirking. He took a small sip from his glass. 

Damian scowled. “I didn’t say you were my favorite, I merely implied that your methods were the most effective out of all my predecessors. It is hardly a difficult accomplishment.”

Todd turned back to Grayson. “You haven’t brainwashed him yet?”

“I don’t do that! We’ve never done that,” Grayson huffed. “Damian, I need you to go get a rag and a plastic bag or something, we need to clean this up.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Damian said, readjusting his grip on the star. Todd looked like he was wearing body armor under the waiter’s uniform, so the plastic throwing star would be practically useless. “Also, Todd isn’t old enough for alcohol. He’s not yet twenty-one, and is so forbidden in this backwards culture.”

Grayson frowned. “You’re not twenty-one? How old are you?”

“I am legally dead,” Todd answered. “So technically, forever fifteen.”

“Mathematically, twenty,” Damian supplied. “I’ve read your file, Todd.”

Defiantly, Todd raised the glass to his lips and downed the rest of it in one go. “Ahh,” he said, “Bruce’s old brandy. Honestly, can’t really tell the difference between this and the store brand.”

Grayson tilted his head. “Oh, now I can see the twenty.”

“Shut up,  _ Dick,”  _ Todd said. “I’ve always been five years younger than you. How the hell did you forget?”

“In my defense, this probably gives me points in the coolest brother competition,” Grayson said. “Dami, what do you think?” 

Damian glared at Grayson. 

“Eugh,” Todd said. “No wonder I’m winning. Out of all you dingbats, Timmy is surprisingly the only one who doesn’t make me want to throw up in my mouth a little, so he’s got my vote.”

“Drake isn’t here,” Damian snapped. “And you shouldn’t be, either. What do you want?”

“I’m just here for as a courtesy call,” Todd said. “Word on the street is that Hush is planning something.”

“What is he planning?” Damian demanded. 

Todd shrugged. “Dunno, but I figured I’d warn you f - dickheads, seeing as he has a record of working with a bunch of this city’s other worst hits.”

“Aw, Jay,” Grayson said, smiling slowly. “You care.”

“Look, now it’s your problem,” Todd said. “Not mine. Keep your mass destruction out of my alley and I’ll keep my bullets out of your body, are we clear?”

Grayson started doing his disapproving look, which Damian knew would not go over well. “Tt,” he interrupted. “Someone’s possessive today.”

Todd looked over to Damian instead. “Oy, look at the knock-off demon. Seven months in and finally learning how to quip.”

He scowled. “Better a knock-off demon than a knock-off criminal insanity plea,” Damian replied. “You certainly learn from your enemies,  _ Red Hood _ .”

Grayson’s mouth dropped open a bit. Damian felt strangely proud. 

Todd narrowed his eyes. “Watch your back,  _ Ghul, _ ” he hissed, the consonants in Damian’s name growled jarringly against the rest of the English.  “If you piss off all of Gotham, you’ll have nowhere to hide when the rest of the world comes looking for you. You think your mother’s happy you’re avoiding her calls?”

Damian threw his second star at the empty glass in Todd’s hand. Todd jerked out of the way readily, the star embedding itself in the windowsill on the wall behind. “You don’t know anything about my mother!” Damian snapped. 

He barely registered Grayson stepping possessively to his side, but Todd certainly did, eyes flicking up and down on the other’s stance, like Damian wasn’t even a threat in comparison. “Well, this has been fun,” Todd said, finally standing up and walking backwards towards the window Damian had narrowly missed. “Let’s do it again, say, three weeks from never?”

Grayson put a hand on Damian’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sure we’ll see you around, Jay,” Grayson said, voice even. “Thanks for the tip.”

Todd wrenched Damian’s throwing star out of the wood of the window frame and threw it hard at the window itself, causing the glass to shatter. “Ouch,” Todd remarked. “No impact-proof glass?”

Grayson squeezed Damian’s shoulder harder. “Be careful on your way down, you’ve been drinking,” he said. 

Todd stuck out his middle finger at both of them and flung himself out the window.

Grayson sighed, finally releasing Damian so he could run over to the window and watch Todd meander off the property. “Alright, Dami, your trash talk’s definitely getting better, but maybe don’t go so far next time. There’s a difference between dialogue and goading.”

“Tt,” Damian said. “You went up here without me. I can’t believe you dragged me to this stupid thing and then tried to leave me out of the action. What if you had been poisoned without backup?”

“Jason wouldn’t poison me,” Grayson said. “And I can take him in a fight, in case you’ve forgotten. Though that’s not the point. The point is you should trust me, okay? Things will never get better with Jason if we reference his killer every conversation.”

“If you want me to trust you with Todd, you should trust me with my weapons,” Damian responded quickly. “I could easily fit more knives in this-”

“Sorry, Little D,” Grayson interrupted. “Not happening, not tonight, anyway. Come on, we should go back downstairs to check on things.”

“Hush,” Damian agreed. 

Grayson inclined his head slightly. “Trust me on that too, okay?”

“Selina Kyle is a harlot,” Damian argued. 

Grayson sighed loudly. 

“What?” Damian asked. “I trust you with my honest opinion.”

“You used to be so innocent,” Grayson replied. “Still mean, but it was a straightforward mean. You never played games like this.”

“I wonder where I could have learned it,” Damian said sarcastically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I love Jason. Please let me know what you think!


	4. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grayson, in real life, had nightmares.

All records indicated that Grayson was extremely mentally stable: difficult to manipulate, cool under pressure. Would not give into torture, the League of Shadows noted. Not worth the time it would take to try. Grayson was supposedly the most stable adult in the entire community. 

Grayson, in real life, had nightmares. 

He also snored. 

Sometimes when Damian wasn’t tired, he would crack open Grayson’s door (just to check on him, of course, as part of Robin’s routine duties) and listen for a little bit, to try and match their breathing. The rhythmicity of it was calming. 

Usually. Whenever Grayson was having a nightmare, it made it worse. 

Damian left for school around 8 every morning. Pennyworth almost always drove him, and Grayson usually wasn’t awake. The days he was were usually awkward. 

“I’m fine, Alfred, stop fussing,” Grayson snapped, clutching his coffee to his chest possessively. 

Pennyworth was giving Grayson a look Brown once called the Stink Eye. “Master Dick, If you’re not going to eat a proper breakfast, at least take your vitamins.”

“Those vitamins taste like chalk,” Grayson told Pennyworth. 

They did taste like chalk, but Damian wasn’t going to say anything. “The great Batman,” Damian sighed dramatically instead, poking his scrambled eggs with his fork wearily. “Taken down by Vitamin E deficiency.” 

Grayson shot a look over at him, but Damian scooped up a large chunk of egg and shoved it in his mouth and stared back defiantly.

“Whatever,” Grayson mumbled. “Fine. Hand them over. Damian, I can drop you off at school on my way into the Enterprises today.” 

“Master Dick, it’s really no trouble-” Pennyworth began. 

“It’s fine, Alfred, I’m heading that direction anyways.” 

Still, Pennyworth tried. “A man of your station really should have a driver-”

“I said  _ it’s fine!”  _ Grayson snapped. 

Damian took another bite of his eggs and debated telling Grayson that he actually quite enjoyed his quiet rides to school with Pennyworth, but decided he valued the peace and stayed quiet instead. 

10 minutes later he was packed and heading out with Grayson in his car. Grayson, as always, was irrationally chatty. 

“Maybe you should join some clubs,” Grayson was saying. “I did gymnastics all through school - of course, everyone knew about my circus background, so that really wasn’t a surprise. You can do fencing if you want! Of course, their rules might be frustrating, so maybe something else - there’s an art club, right Dami? After-school pottery and stuff like that?” 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed, glaring out the window of the passenger’s seat. He usually rode in the back of Pennyworth’s car. “No.” 

“They don’t?” Grayson continued. “Well, maybe I can make a few calls, get them to start-”

“Don’t.” 

“Damian,” Grayson said, sounding exasperated. “You should do something outside of school.”

“You are perfectly aware of my extracurricular activities,” Damian said to the window. 

“Maybe we can find something to do together,” Grayson said. “We could - volunteer, or something. Or I could start a boy scout troop, or-”

Damian finally turned his head to face Grayson. “Why are you here?” he asked. 

Grayson frowned, glancing briefly at him before back to the road. “I’m driving you to school, Little D.”

“No,” Damian said. “I mean, why did you allow a dream to affect you so badly that you woke up two hours early and why do you feel the need to distract yourself via myself?” 

Grayson’s expression went blank, and for the first time all morning, he took a few moments to think before he spoke. “Everyone has bad dreams, Dami,” he said, voice even. 

“Don’t call me that,” Damian snapped. 

“I was just trying to save Alfred a trip.” 

“I saw you this morning,” Damian said. “You cry out in your sleep.”

“I’m sorry I woke you.” Grayson’s voice was inflectionless. 

“Don’t be an idiot, Grayson,” Damian snapped. “I was already awake.” 

Grayson stopped the car; belatedly, Damian realized they were already at school. “Here you are,” Grayson stated. “Alfred should be by to pick you up after school.”

“As usual,” Damian said, standing up and slamming the car door shut behind him. 

 

* * *

 

That night was a patrol night, and Grayson was worse. 

Perhaps  _ worse  _ was not the right word; he was silent, vicious, going out of his way to make criminals cower. That was usually Damian’s job; he rather liked the satisfaction that came from the look in their eyes that they had been bested by Robin. 

The night after was just training. Grayson had them start early and end late, starting with combat training and ending with emergency medical procedures, spitting questions at Damian so fast his head spun. Finally, around midnight, he interrupted, “Wouldn’t it be more effective if I learned these skills directly from Pennyworth? He is the more experienced combat medic.” 

Grayson stared at him, and Damian immediately knew he had said something wrong. He didn’t know what. 

“It’s getting late,” Grayson said, glancing at the clock. “You’re probably right. Tomorrow’s your night off, anyways. You can talk with Alfred then if you want.” 

Damian fell asleep almost immediately after his shower. Grayson was up again when he woke for breakfast. “Can Pennyworth drive me to school?” he blurted out immediately. 

Grayson’s face went blank again, which is how Damian knew he’d hurt his feelings.  _ Again.  _ For some reason. “Yes, Damian,” he answered wearily, and then turned back to his breakfast. This morning, it seemed to consist mostly of a drink laced with protein powder. “I’ll be out most of tonight and tomorrow.”

“League business?” Damian asked. 

“Just Batman stuff,” Grayson said. “Be good for Alfred, alright?” 

“I will,” Damian agreed. 

On the way to school, Damian waited until they were a few blocks away from Wayne Tower, and then asked, “Pennyworth, I think Grayson is upset.” 

“Is that so, Master Damian?” he replied conversationally from the front. 

“And I don’t know why,” Damian continued. “Patrols have been fine, and he’s had plenty of social interactions.” 

“If I may,” Pennyworth said, sounding amused, “I don’t think there’s anything to be done, Master Damian. Master Dick is under a tremendous amount of pressure, and he tries to project an image of strength as not to worry you.”

“Pressure?” Damian scoffed. “Why is he under pressure now? Things are fine.”

“I believe Master Dick worries that he is not as capable a Batman as your father was,” Alfred says.    

“Oh,” Damian said. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond - on one hand, he himself had told Grayson to his face that he found Grayson lacking as Batman, back when he had first started. And again, a month ago, when Grayson had grounded him for getting in a fight at school. On the other hand, he hadn’t said anything again  _ recently,  _ and even if it were true - how would Damian know? He had never worked with his father as Batman and Robin. So why…

“Pennyworth,” Damian said, “Grayson hasn’t been sleeping well.” 

Through the rearview mirror, he could see Pennyworth’s face grow weary. “I know, Master Damian,” he said quietly. “I wish there was something more I could do.” 

 

* * *

 

Of course, Damian was a hypocrite. 

He woke up just before five am ( _ with the image of his disappointed grandfather that had melted into his disappointed father burned into his eyelids, telling him he hadn’t killed enough and had killed too much to belong simultaneously)  _ with a migraine, too wide-awake to fall straight back to sleep. He’d already gotten out of bed to complete his ritual of sitting outside of Grayson’s door and was halfway there before he remembered; Grayson was gone. “Batman stuff.” 

He took the stairs down to the floor below, but Pennyworth’s door was too thick to hear anything through, so he trudged back to his room reluctantly. 

He stopped by Grayson’s room and grabbed a pillow on the way.  No one ever found out.

 

* * *

 

Grayson hugs Damian tightly when he returns. Damian returns the embrace stiffly and pulls back quickly to see his brother’s shining smile. “I hope you were good for Alfred while I was gone.” 

The two days had been quiet. “Don’t worry,” Damian said. “I was.” 

He woke up in the middle of the next night - probably more out of routine than anything else at this point - and saw Grayson was sitting on the floor next to Damian’s bed, back leaning against the mattress. Grayson, he realized with surprise, was doing the same task Damian usually did at night, just sitting there and matching their breathing rates.  _ In, out. In, out.  _

Damian offers Grayson one of his pillows the next time he leaves. 

 

* * *

 

They were going to bed after patrol one night, when Grayson said quietly, “You know, Damian, if I ever...if I’m too loud and I wake you up, you can wake me up too, okay?” 

Damian looked over sharply.  “You don’t wake me up.” 

Grayson wasn’t looking at him. In fact, he was almost blushing. “You’ve mentioned it before.” 

_I only know because I sneak into your room to help me sleep._  “Alright,” Damian said.  _The sight of you makes my nightmares go away._  “Same for me, I suppose.”

 


	5. Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dysfunctional family ahead

Records stated that Drake had been trained by a fair amount of people; Batman and Lady Shiva among the most impressive, but also by Nightwing. The records didn’t outright say that Grayson and Drake had been close, but judging by the massive amount of joint missions in Drake’s first year as Robin, they must have been. Damian even found a badly-edited video file of clips of Robin and Nightwing goofing off labeled ‘ _ Tim’s bday?’  _ that was last opened 2 years ago in Grayson’s personal drive. 

Still, despite all the evidence - 

“Come on, Tim.”

“No.” 

“Tim-” Grayson pleaded. 

“ _ No,”  _ Drake repeated, more forcefully. “I told you, I’m busy.” 

“Whatever it is, I’m sure the Titans can handle it,” Grayson said. 

Drake slammed his tool box shut. “You lured me here,” he accused. “You said I could drop by and work on my bike.”

“You are working on your bike,” Grayson said. 

“I’m not babysitting Gotham while you run around with your new Justice League,” Drake snarled. “Red Hood is here-”

“Red Hood is a crime lord,” Grayson interrupted. 

“What about Oracle and Batgirl?” 

“Damian’s agreed to go patrolling with Steph while I’m gone,” Grayson said. On the other end of the screen, Damian snorted. “Look, I know how smart Babs is. I know. But between you and me, Steph gets in a little over her head with the legwork sometimes, and if the worst happens-”

“I’m seventeen, Dick,” Drake said. “If Dr. Freeze or the Riddler break out of Arkham, you really think I can handle it by myself?” 

“You’ll have Babs and Steph and Damian,” Grayson answered. “And yeah, I think you guys could handle it.” 

Drake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, contrary to what you believe, not all my missions are with the Teen Titans. I know they were all you could think about when you were my age-”

“Hey-”

“But I’m actually working on some of my own stuff, and I can’t foist it off on other people, and I can’t take an unscheduled two-week break,” Drake finished. “Look, if legwork is all you’re worried about, Jason is going to be here. He has been here. And you know he’s a better fighter than me.” 

Grayson closed his eyes in frustration. “Jason is a murderer!” he shouted at the ceiling of the bunker. “Do you even remember what happened when Bruce died, Tim? What, should I just give Jason a handwritten invitation to try to take the cowl back?” 

“As I remember, I had to put on the cowl first to stop Jason because you were too chicken, and then Jason stabbed me in the chest with a Batarang because he thought I was you before you finally went up against him,” Tim said. 

“First of all, I’m sorry that happened to you,” Grayson said, “but second, that really just proves my point that Jason is an  _ unstable killer.”  _

“You and Jason just avoid and circle each other until one of you explodes,” Drake accused. “You want to talk about unstable?” 

“So is saving people just not important to you anymore?” Grayson asked. 

Drake raised his eyebrows and threw the toolbox he was working with at Grayson, who caught it against his chest. “Well, saving Bruce isn’t important to you.” 

“Timmy,” Grayson wheezed, sounding pained. “I don’t want to have this fight with you again.” 

“What fight?” Drake asked flippantly. “The one where you tell me Bruce is dead, and I’m crazy, and then I storm out?” 

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Grayson said. “Look, if I had the time-”

“If you actually believed in me, you’d make time,” Drake said. “So obviously you don’t, and obviously we’re having this fight again, so it’s time for me to leave.” 

“Tim!” Grayson shouted. 

Up in his bedroom, Damian pulled his headphones out and laid his phone with the security camera feed down. He pulled up Netflix on his laptop, just loud enough for someone to hear if they held their ear to the door, and then put on his mask. 

It was Damian’s night off from both patrol and training. Pennyworth had just checked on him 15 minutes ago, and Grayson would be distraught enough to lock himself down in the bunker for a few more hours. They wouldn’t catch him following Drake until he was long gone. 

It hadn’t been easy to remove the alarm that sounded when his window opened, but after a few months of work Damian managed to budge the sensor without anyone noticing. He’d have to be quick - people would question if Robin was seen sneaking in and out of the penthouse of Wayne Tower. 

He pulled his grappling gun out of his utility belt and glanced once more at the security feed of his phone. Drake had pulled his cowl back up and was steering his motorbike out of the bunker. He should leave now if he wanted to follow Drake home. 

It wasn’t that high, Damian told himself as he eased out his window. His cape had a parasail function. Not that he’d need it, because he was good at swinging  _ and it wasn’t that high.  _

Kicking the window shut behind him, Damian shot his grapple gun and leaped. 

 

* * *

 

Drake was either not going home, or he was staying in a very bad part of town. As the buildings got shorter and shabbier Damian realized with a jolt that they were heading straight to the Red Hood’s territory. 

Not that he was scared of the Red Hood. He just had a healthy amount of respect, that’s all. 

Drake eventually parked his bike right in the middle of Crime Alley (idiot, he had just fixed it up, it was going to get scratched at the very least, look at Todd’s history) and just stood there, cape billowing obnoxiously in the breeze. Damian self-consciously hid in the shadows behind a heating unit on the roof above, hood pulled as far over his head as he could go. 

_ Crack!  _ A smoke bomb suddenly detonated at Drake’s feet. Drake flipped backwards, out of the way, scanning the rooftops around him until he saw - “HOOD!” 

Damian jumped about a foot in the air - Drake was addressing the taller building right next to him. Sure enough, when he looked right and up, Todd’s red helmet was just visible against the darkness. 

“REPLACEMENT!” Todd bellowed back from his perch five stories up. 

“It’s true what they say!” Drake shouted back. “Aquaman protects all the world’s oceans, most superheros take a city, but you. You patrol the shit out of 10 blocks in downtown Gotham.” 

“WHAT?” Todd said. 

Drake huffed, muttering to himself, before firing his grappling gun and hoisting himself to the roof of the building. 

Damian carefully climbed the building’s walls until he was close enough to hear again, pulling himself up along window ledges and old air conditioners. “Me?” Todd was saying as Damian finally pulled himself up to the edge of the building, one hand on the roof and the other firmly wedged in a crack that formerly hosted a bunch of spider’s webs. “What the hell do you want from me?” 

“I’m leaving Gotham for several weeks,” Drake said. 

Todd snorted. “Replacement, you left Gotham  _ months  _ ago.” 

“I’ve been around,” Drake said crossly. 

“Sure,” Todd replied. “And Bruce’s money came from rainbows and we have a normal life where everything doesn’t routinely fall to shit every few months. Why are you telling me this?” 

“Just,” Drake said, sounding frustrated, and then changed tactics. “I heard that I was your favorite.” 

“What?” Todd asked, like a buffoon. “Who told you that?”

“Apparently you’re Damian’s favorite, and I’m your favorite,” Drake said. “And look, you’re my favorite too, so-”

“Still mad at the dick who kicked you out of the nest?” 

“Just look after Gotham while I’m gone,” Drake blurted out. 

Todd let out a bark of laughter. “Who died and made you Batman?” 

Damian dug his fingers harder into the crack in the wall; some of the old brick crumbled at his touch. Drake didn’t verbally react either. 

“Shit,” Todd said. “No one really died, did they?” 

“No,” answered Drake. “But don’t do that. It’s not funny.” 

“Making death jokes is cathartic,” Todd replied. “Take it from me, the one who actually died.”  

“I don’t think Bruce is dead,” Drake said again in a rush. Todd was silent during the pause. “I’m going to go look for him. I need to know Gotham will be safe until he gets back.” 

Damian raised himself up just enough to peak over the rooftop. Luckily, they were both too distracted to notice him; Todd lifted his hand and removed his helmet with a soft  _ click.  _

“You think I’m crazy,” Drake said bitterly. “Well, it doesn’t matter what you think. I’m going, and I need-”

“Whoa, whoa,” Todd interrupted. “First of all, I’m the crazy Robin. You? You’re a saint, kid. You put up with everyone. Secondly…” he furrowed his brows and stared at Drake. “I don’t even know what. This isn’t a roundabout way of asking for my help, is it?” 

“No,” Drake said. “I know you wouldn’t want to. I just need Gotham-”

“What happened,” Todd asked, “you don’t trust big bird anymore? Far be it from I to question anyone’s Batman issues, but this seems extreme, even for...what happened to him?”

“Nothing,” Drake hissed. 

Todd pulled out a gun from his belt. “Red Robin,” he growled threateningly - it was practically identical to Grayson’s growl. “What happened to Batman?” 

“If he knew I told you and you pulled something-”

_ Beep beep.  _

Damian cursed under his breath as his tracking device let out another beep and looked down, debating if he could use something to cushion a five story fall. He didn’t have the chance before he heard the sound of a gun being cocked in his face. 

“The fuck,” Todd said, flicking the safety back on and staring at Damian in disgust. Behind him, Drake did not lower his bo staff. “What, did I hang flyers and say it was Robin visitation day and forget about it?” 

Damian bit back the urge to sneer and racked his brains for something witty to say. “What,” he said, pulling Grayson-esque dialogue out of his mind’s eye. “Aren’t you happy to see your little brother?” 

“We’re not brothers,” Todd huffed, but pulled his gun back and stashed it in his belt. He turned away and Damian took the chance to haul himself all the way up on the roof. “Well, if dickwad is tracking you, I’m out of here. Guess I won’t see you around, Replacement-”

“Wait,” Drake said, snagging the elbow of Todd’s leather jacket. “Can you do it?” 

Todd shrugged him off. “I don’t owe you or Bruce any favors,” he growled, and then leapt off the building. 

Drake stared after him. “Eugh,” he scoffed, rounding on Damian. “Why are you here, Robin? Don’t you have somebody better’s plans to ruin for the night?”  

Damian scowled and crossed his arms. “I know the name  _ Red Robin  _ wasn’t a huge stretch for you, but if you’re not even going to help Batman in his time of need then you have no business with an alias that contains the word Robin at all.”

“I am helping Batman!” Drake screamed. 

“Yeah, right,” Damian sneered, “Going behind his back like this-”

“The  _ real  _ Batman,” Drake interrupted. 

Damian’s jaw dropped. “Our Batman is the real Batman! My family is the master of death, you idiot, so you don’t think I would know-”

“ _ Our  _ Batman?” Drake said incredulously. “ _ Your  _ Batman is in over his head, because he won’t stop asking for help every five seconds-”

“He doesn’t  _ need your help!”  _ Damian shouted. “He  _ has me!”  _

“What he has is the Red Hood,” Drake said, “But he wouldn’t get his head out of his ass for  _ five seconds-” _

“He asks for your help because he’s a  _ sentimental idiot  _ and he, for whatever godforsaken reason,  _ misses you,  _ you - you ungrateful traitor-!” Damian spluttered.   

“If he missed me,” Drake started, and stared pointedly at the R on Damian’s chest. 

Damian tackled him, or attempted to, anyways. Drake knocked him away with his bo staff, so Damian started throwing whatever he could find in his utility belt - smoke pellets, firecrackers. Drake coughed and was forced to leap backwards

“Hey!” a voice shouted to their left. Todd, probably. Damian took advantage of the distraction to leap at Drake again, landing a kick on Drake’s hipbone and staying close enough that the staff wouldn’t be useful. “HEY!” Todd shouted again, and then a gun fired. 

Drake threw Damian off and to the ground, pressing the tip of his staff against Damian’s chest so he couldn’t rise again. Damian snarled as Todd walked forward, waving one arm to clear the smoke. “Jesus Christ, I leave you too alone for two minutes. What’s my number one rule?” 

“Disrespect my father’s legacy at all turns?” Damian spat. Drake poked him in the chest again with his staff. 

“My other number one rule,” Todd said. “Keep your shit out of my alley. Crap, now look what you guys did.”

Batman landed on the other side of Damian and Drake, looking wary. “Well,” he said lightly. “I must have missed my invitation to the family reunion?” 

Todd let out a heavy sigh. “So, I heard you’re skipping town.” 

Grayson’s expression immediately darkened. 

“Don’t  _ worry,”  _ Todd said. “I won’t do anything, this time, or I know I’d have to deal with this little party every day.” 

Drake poked Damian one last time in the chest before withdrawing his staff and storing it behind his back. “See, Dick?” he said. “I told you it’d be fine.” 

Grayson scowled, but all he said out loud was a short reprimand of “Names.” 

Damian scrambled to his feet as Drake very exaggeratedly rolled his eyes (which was an accomplishment, seeing as you couldn’t actually see his eyes through the cowl lenses) and strolled off towards the front edge of the building. “I’m out of here,” he said, shooting a grappling gun. “See you in a few months, probably.” 

Todd let out a low whistle as Drake swung away. “Wow, that was positively frosty,” he commented. “Remember when Replacement used to worship the ground you walked on?” 

Grayson didn’t look like he was going to reply, so Damian snapped, “Shut up, Todd.”

“ _ Names,”  _ Todd said, mockingly, and then turned around. “Oh, and thanks for the heads-up, big bird. Could do without all the intermediaries next time, though.” 

Grayson reached out and put one hand on Damian’s shoulder, but it was twitching like he was holding himself back. “It’s two on one, Batman,” Damian announced. “We could catch him and put him back in Arkham right now if you want.”

Hood turned back to them, guns out, but Grayson snarled, “ _ No, Robin,”  _ and used his grip on Damian’s shoulder to throw them both off the side of the building. 

Even with Damian in one hand, Grayson managed to swing from a balcony and land smoothly on the roof two stories below that Damian had originally been tracking Drake from. Damian struggled away from Grayson’s grasp there, but Grayson shot his grappling hook and swung them both down to the street below. Drake’s motorcycle was gone, but the Batmobile was there. “Get in,” Grayson growled, pushing him towards the car. 

“I’m going, I’m going,” Damian huffed, climbing into the passenger’s seat. “Grayson-”

“You’re in big trouble,” Grayson said, setting the car to auto-pilot the way home and then turning to stare at Damian as they drove. “Going out to see Stephanie in the daytime is one thing. Going out as Robin, in the dark, to  _ Crime Alley  _ is in a whole other league. You’re grounded.” 

He’d anticipated this. “Fine.” 

Grayson seemed surprised at his acceptance. “For two weeks,” he added. 

A longer sentence, but likely to be shortened in case of emergency. “Whatever.” 

“You aren’t going to defend yourself?” 

“Grayson,” Damian said shortly. “I was out here defending your name to your so-called brothers. You’re leaving soon anyway, so it’s not like I’ll be missing much by being grounded. I am more upset that a traitor like Drake was ever allowed to hold the Robin position than I am at your frankly justifiable act of punishishment, so - fine. Ground me. You’ll know where to find me if you need me, which is more than you can say of the  _ other  _ Robin.” 

“It’s not a competition,” Grayson said wearily. 

“But if it was,” Damian said, “I would be winning.” 

“Hey,” Grayson reprimanded. “You’re in big trouble right now. Don’t push me.” 

Damian crossed his arms and glared out the window.  _ They don’t deserve you,  _ he seethed to himself.  _ They don’t deserve you defending them.  _

Of course, Grayson had made Damian Robin, even against his father’s last wishes, so he knew Grayson didn’t care about what any of them deserved.   


End file.
